


Fall in the Light

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-04
Updated: 1999-10-04
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Last in the series. Warning: This one is disturbing, even by my standards.This story is a sequel toBroken.





	Fall in the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Disclaimer: Alliance owns Fraser, Kowalski, Welsh, Vecchio, Huey, Dewey,
    Diefenbaker, Thatcher and Frobisher and Turnbull. I'm just using them
    for my own perverse pleasure.  Everybody else belongs to me and the story
    is mine. The series title is a song by Peter Gabriel and Deep Forest.
    The title is a song by Lori Carson & Graeme Revell (both used without
    permission) 
    
    R (possibly NC-17)for M/M SEX, VIOLENCE, H/C, RAPE, BAD LANGUAGE, ANGST,
    DEATH STORY 
    
    IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE OR M/M SEX BOTHERS YOU: GO BACK, LEAVE NOW, WALK
    ON, BUG OFF. Thank you kindly. 
    
    WARNING: This story contains m/m sex and deals with mature themes, rape
    being the major issue. It's angsty, but this particular is disturbing,
    even by my standards. So if my other stuff doesn't really turn your crank
    I sure as hell won't be winning any brownie points with this one. 
    
    Part 3 in the While the Earth Sleeps series
    
    All I want is the same, a true belief
    
    You can't wait to become a memory
    With the 'weak' it's the same as always
    
    Stand confused, lack of comprehension,
    Re-aroused by a thought of madness
    
    And I know that the truth is always right
    But it's time to search for lies
    You're the one I try to save
    
                --Nick Holmes
                 (from 'True Belief' by Paradise Lost)
    
    Fall in the Light
    By
    Rae
    
    ------------------
    
    Remember nothing. Everything has been washed away. *Who am I?* Ray Kowalski
    studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He reached out and pressed
    his fingers to the glass, tracing the outline of the face he saw there.
    He should have known that face; why didn't he? The bathroom door opened
    then and Dominic Rosdale entered, wearing a terry cloth bathrobe. Ray
    looked at him, studying the dull features, the folds of skin over the
    pudgy face. He'd woken up next to this man, but... "Who am I?", he whispered,
    "W-why don't I remember?" Dominic moved to stand behind him. He pointed
    to the reflection. "You were hurt.", he whispered, his lips close to
    Ray's ear. "But I took care of you and helped you get better." His hand
    slipped over Ray's chest, feathery light touches falling against icy
    flesh. "Who am I?", Kowalski whispered. That hand began to stray lower,
    kneading the hard muscles of his stomach. It was uncomfortable, sickening,
    the feel of this man's hands on him, but Ray didn't resist. The tip of
    Dominic's tongue touched his earlobe. "Who am I?", Ray asked again, the
    feel of Rosdale's hot breath sending a shiver through him. "Part of me.",
    Dominic replied in a hiss and reached down to grope him. Ray gasped,
    arching forward. A strong hand on his back leaned him forward, bending
    him over the sink. Kowalski groaned. "Please...lemme..up." 
    "Shhh.", Rosdale whispered, "Shh. Trust me."
    
    
    
    
    
    Benton Fraser paced the floor of Ray's apartment. It was almost noon.
    There had been no sign of Kowalski since he left the Consulate last night.
    His cell phone, badge and gun were on the nightstand in the bedroom.
    He'd taken nothing. Guilt was feeding on Ben, desperate, miserable. Angry,
    enraged with himself for letting the detective go. He sighed, sitting
    down for a moment to organize his thoughts. He could go to Welsh, but
    the lieutenant had not been helpful before. Of course the situation had
    changed drastically since the last time they'd spoken. 
    
    
    "Lieutenant." The other man did not so much as glance up from what he
    was writing. "Yes, Constable?" Ben sat down.
    "I have information about Detective Vecchio's activities while he was
    undercover that I withheld, in hopes that he would come forward himself
    and make a statement." Harding looked up, confused. "What about, Constable?"
    "During his stay in the psych hospital....he was repeatedly raped by
    the orderlies." The pen fell from the older man's hand. "What?!"
    "He was-"
    "I heard you, Constable." He groaned."Why was Vecchio withholding this
    very vital bit of information from us?" Ben ran his thumb across his
    eyebrow nervously. "He was...humilitated. He told me very little, but
    I would imagine it was uncomfortable, if not painful for him to talk
    to you or the other officers about it." "Damn!" Welsh covered his face
    with his hands. There was silence then, so the tick-tick of Ben's wristwatch
    was deafening. After a time, the lieutenant spoke again. "How is he,
    emotionally, Constable?"
    "Not well, sir. He eats in ravenous bouts and drinks much. I can't--He
    won't---I can't get close to him." Ben shifted slightly, "We fought about
    his refusal to get help last night and he left the Consulate. I--I don't
    know where he is and he has not returned to his apartment." Harding sat
    back, massaging his temple. "Terrific. That's terrific." He stood and
    went to the door. "I'll put an APB out on Stan's car. Huey and Dewey
    can run with it." He looked back at the Mountie."I'll send a uniform
    to his apartment, in case he comes back." Ben nodded.  
    
    
    
    Ten minutes later, Welsh was speaking with Huey and Dewey.
    "What's going on, Lieu?", Jack asked, not satisfied with the older man's
    hazy explanation. "All you need to know is that Vecchio's gone AWOL.
    Find him, bring his ass back here." Tom's eyes narrowed. "Is he alright?"
    Harding patted the other man on the shoulder.
    "Hope so.", he mumbled and turned away. 
    
    
    
    
     Red serge. Dark hair. Guns. Black car. White wolf. Ray sucked in a breath
    as he awoke. He had dreams. Strange dreams that made no sense to him.
    Someone else's memories. Not his? But real. So real. He could feel the
    wolf's fur beneath his hands, against his face. Wolf. D-Draco. Danny.
    No. Dief? *Who the hell is Dief? The wolf?* He sighed and sat up. Beside
    him, Rosdale slumbered peacefully, a happy grin curled on his full lips.
    Ray felt sick. He'd fucked him again. Wasn't going to say no. Didn't
    know how. He crawled out of bed and dressed. The two bodyguards were
    standing by the door as always. Kowalski watched them as he laced up
    his shoes. He didn't like these guys. They watched. They liked to watch.
    Had to take his medication again. Dom had given him some in the bathroom,
    but he'd have to take more later. To get better. The drugs helped him
    get better.  As he walked out of the bedroom, one of guards snickered.
    
    
    
    
    The compound was dark and silent. It was always night in here. He could
    not recall any day sun. Ray wasn't sure how long he'd been here, or how
    he'd come upon this place. Dom said he'd been hurt and he believed it.
    He must have been hurt. There were bruises and cuts on his body, but
    he couldn't recall from where he had recieved them. Stan walked through
    the rows of mattresses, looking at the men and women curled up, sleeping
    side by side. They weren't clean like Dom. They were filthy and the stench
    of sweat and sickness scratched at Ray's senses. Their hair was tangled
    and knotted, as if not brushed in weeks. There were no children. That
    was good. Didn't know why, but it made him feel better. No children.
    He ventured further, but not further than the doors. The doors were forbidden.
    Dom said they were safe here, but if the doors were opened, the evil
    would seep in. The evil. They were safe here. He was safe here. Dom would
    never let anything bad happen to him. He promised. Ray pulled his flannel
    shirt tighter around his thin form and returned to the bedroom. 
    
    
    
    Fraser and Welsh had nearly finished contacting all of Kowalski's known
    haunts when Huey and Dewey returned. From the look on the other officers'
    faces, it was obvious the news was not good. "We found Ray's car in the
    parking lot of a pool hall on Cravlin. Bartender was able to ID Ray.
    He left with another man.", Huey explained," We brought a sketch artist
    in and-" Welsh was beginning to pop aspirin. "Wait, sir...it gets worse."
    Harding scoffed. "We've got a positive ID on the man who Vecchio left
    with. His name is Dominic Rosdale." Welsh began massaging his temple.
    "Rosdale? Why's that name sound so familiar?"
    "He's a preacher. Kind of. He's very outspoken about family values, abortion.
    But he takes a whole lotta cheap shots at the homosexual communtiy. He's
    the head of a weird cult that works out of a this place on the edge of
    the city. Supposedly he uses these mind-bender drugs to keep his 'followers'
    in line." "Homophobic, but I suspect he's a big closet case.", Dewey
    added. The three other men looked at him. "Psychology, damnit!" "What
    does he want with Ray?", Jack whispered. Each man had his own thoughts,
    but none were voiced outloud. Harding stood up slowly, but then settled
    back into the chair. He didn't appear to be processing any of this. And
    to him it was just a nightmare. Between the terror Ray must have experienced
    those four days he spent alone in the godforsaken hospital and this complete
    breakdown in his judgement..... Welsh had seen too many good cops crack
    under less stress than what his detective had been through. "Huey? Are
    you telling me that Vecchio has up and joined a cult?", he asked "That
    would be one assumption, yes." Welsh growled.
    "Shit!"
    "Can we get him out? As we did in the hospital?", the Mountie asked.
    The lieutenant looked at the younger man, but then quickly dropped his
    eyes. The expression on Fraser's face was heartbreaking. Guilt, desperation
    and....a diminishing hope that could not be hidden. "I'm afraid it's
    not that easy, Constable. Cults still have Constitutional rights. That's
    what turned Waco into such a disaster. We can't go in there without reasonable
    cause. Ray will have to come to us." Jack stepped forward. "We can shake
    them up a bit. Let us go in, we'll ask to see Ray. I don't think these
    guys want the cops on their backs. Maybe they'll give him to us." Welsh
    nodded. "Fine, give it a try."
    "Sir?"
    "Constable. I want you to stay here." Ben frowned, but nodded obediently.
    "As you wish, sir."
    
    
    
    
    
    The windows were covered with wooden planks. The paint was peeling and
    showing the sickly grey of the stone beneath.  From a distance one would
    have thought that the compound was condemned. Huey and Dewey had to check
    in with a guard at the front door. The officers and the guards eyed each
    other will equal suspicion. Tom, more to comfort himself than to look
    threatening, rested his hand on the butt of his gun. After a half-hour
    wait they were permitted into the compound. The environment was unbelievable.
    It was dark, musty and stuffy. Dewey buried in his nose in the back of
    his sleeve and stuck close to his partner as they moved down the corridor.
    The people were like mad zombies, snarling at the two detectives as they
    passed. Jack searched for Ray in the crowd, but could not see him. 
    
    
    
    
      
     Dominic Rosdale met them in what could be described as a parlour. Really
    it was just a small, square room with a folding metal chairs placed over
    a large faded blue rug. Both Huey and Dewey flashed their badges and
    intentified themselves. "What can I do for you, Gentlemen?", Rosdale
    asked. 
    "We have a friend who we know is here.", Jack said, "His name is Stanley
    Raymond Kowalski. He's a detective, first-grade with the Chicago Police
    Department." Rosdale nodded. "And you would like to see him?", the other
    man asked innocently. "Yes." Huey bit back a disgusted scrowl.  Rosdale
    looked to one of his guards. "Tell Stan that his 'friends' are here to
    see him." He spat the word 'friends' so that now Dewey growled low in
    his throat. 
    
    
    
    If the image of this place had not been a shock for the two officers,
    the the sight of their fellow detective certainly was. Ray was pale,
    even more thin and drawn than before. He walked slowly, unsurely, his
    steps were like that of a small child and he kept his head bowed. Rosdale
    rose and put his hand on Kowalski's shoulder. "How are you today, Stan?",
    he asked.
    "G-good.", the blond whispered. Huey resisted the urge to grab the fat
    bastard and rip him away from Kowalski. Instead he asked, "Ray?" The
    blond looked up, but then dropped his eyes again. Jack continued. "Uh,
    Welsh wanted us to come and get you."
    "Welsh?", he asked, rolling the name as if it were foreign to him. "Lieutenant
    Welsh. You're needed at the precinct." Ray looked to Rosdale in confusion.
    "You used to be a cop, Stan.",the other man said. Tom growled again,
    this time making no attempt to soften it. "He *is* a cop." The cult leader
    smiled sweetly.
    "Not anymore." A sick feeling was forming in Jack's stomach.
    "Ray, please come with us." The blond shook his head.
    "My name is Stan. W-who are you?" Huey and Dewey exchanged glances. "My
    name is Jack Huey, this is my partner, Tom Dewey. We're detectives with
    the Chicago PD. You are a detective at the same precinct. Ray, you have
    to remember." Kowalski opened his mouth to speak, but the words were
    never vocalized. Finally he said, "I--I--Dom says I was hurt and I'm
    not a cop anymore." Tom glared at the other man. "Dom is a lying."
    "Stan,", Jack asked, "Were you given any drugs while you were here?"
    "Detectives.", Rosdale cut in, "I think your time is up." Huey looked
    at Ray. "Stan. The drugs." Kowalski eyes darted from Jack, back to Dom
    and then back to Jack. Huey was reminded off a young boy who was afraid
    answer a simple question in fear of being caught in a lie. "Detectives,
    I'm asking you to leave. Now." 
    "Ray, come with us. Please.", Huey pleaded. Kowalski shook his head.
    "No.", he replied.
    
    
    
    
    Neither detective spoke a word in the car. Without Ray's cooperation
    it would be difficult to get him out of the cult. He had been given the
    drugs, that much was obvious. The man's physical condition was sickening.
    He was literally wasting away. 
    
    
    
    "He didn't know who we were." Welsh's brow furrowed.
    "He didn't know who you were?"
    "No, sir. It's those mind-bender things. He won't come to us because
    Rosdale told him that he wasn't a cop anymore." Harding sighed. "Are
    we dead in the water, gentlemen?"
    "It would seem that way." 
    "If he has lost his memory, couldn't we go through Doctor Phillips and
    have him removed under a medical order." It was Fraser who spoke. Welsh
    looked at him. "Care to explain, Constable?"
    "Yes, sir. Ray has not fully recovered yet. If he has lost his memory,
    then by not handing him over to us, Mr. Rosdale is endangering his life
    and denying him medical attention." A slow smile spread across the lieutenant's
    face. "Fraser, thank you. I can give  Doc Phillips a call. With her recommendation
    we can easily get a court order to have Kowalski removed from the compound."
    He glanced at the clock. "Almost midnight. There's no chance of pulling
    this off tonight. Let's see if we can go, get some sleep and pull together
    tomorrow morning." 
    
    
    
    
    
     Kowalski whimpered. 
    "Shh.", Dom murmured, "It's alright." The older man rained kisses on
    Ray's chest, nipped at the flesh. "I-I need more medicine." Rosdale's
    hand worked open the detective's jeans. "Soon.", he whispered,"Soon."
    Tears began to spill down Stan's eyes as he was stripped. He didn't want
    to do this anymore. It hurt. It hurt. "Please...don't. I...don't....want."
    Dom rose slowly, lapping at the blond's torso as he worked his way up
    to Ray lips. "Shh." He kissed him. "Didn't I say I'd take care you?"
    Ray nodded. "Yes." The tears were falling freely now. "But it hurts.
    Please.....it hurts." Dom wiped the moisture from his face. "It has to
    hurt sometimes, Stan. You just be good. If you don't struggle, it doesn't
    hurt." He pulled the smaller man close to him, viciously sucking on Ray's
    neck. Stan sobbed and trembled as Rosdale began to grind himself against
    the younger man. The guards at the door watched, whispering and snickering
    to each other. When Ray looked at one of them fearfully, the fellow made
    a kissing gesture and laughed silently. Stan screwed his eyes shut he
    felt Rosdale's hand move down his back, over the curve of his buttocks,
    slipping into a more private area. "Oh, God. Please, no.", he sobbed.
    
    "Shh. Stan, you must trust me.", Dom said again as he turned the younger
    man around and pushed him face down onto the bed. 
    
    
    
    
    ====================================================================
    Getting in touch with Marian Phillips proved harder than they thought.
    Due to a four car pile-up on the interstate she had had no time to check
    her messages, let alone return the phone calls. Fraser arrived at the
    precinct at the same time as a breathless Lieutenant Welsh. The superior
    officer had gone to the hospital himself and explained the situation
    to Phillips, who took care of all the paperwork. But they still had to
    go through a judge to get the warrant. 
    
    
     They had the warrant at 4:53, but also had to secure a SWAT team in
    case of any unforseen problems. The las thing the city needed was a repeat
    performance of Waco.It was nearly seven when a caravan of police made
    their way to the compund on the edge of the city. 
    
    
     It loomed before them like a dungeon. Welsh glanced over at Fraser,
    who had been strangely silent. Truth be told, the Mountie was trying
    to keep his lunch down. He had a bad feeling, a sick stirring in the
    pit of his stomach. Such fear was a new thing to him. He breathed deeply,
    attempting to bring his nerves under control. He was afraid for Ray,
    scared of what they would find when they got to the compound. 
    
    
    
    "Get up!" Ray was shaken awake and pulled into a sitting postion. Stan
    rubbed his eyes. "What's going on?", he asked drowsily. Rosdale stood
    before him, fully dressed. "Dom, what's happening?", he asked nervously.
    
    "The soliders of evil are coming." 
    "The Evil?", the blond whispered fearfully. The older man nodded. "Yes,
    Stan, the Evil." Rosdale took Kowalski's hand and pushed a sliver 9mm
    Beretta into it. Stan looked at the thing as if it were a rattlesnake.
    "Use this to protect yourself." Ray began to shiver.
    "B-but where are you going?" Rosdale did not respond. He gestured to
    the guards. Ray moved toward him, reaching out. But Dom pushed him away.
    Then he was gone. Kowalski was on the floor, rocking himself and whimpering
    softly. 
    
    
    
    "Where the hell is Ray?" ,Welsh snapped at he slapped the cuffs onto
    another cult member. SWAT had been posted around the building to ensure
    no one got out. Originally the plan had been to just get Kowalski, but
    upon entering the compound, a young woman with greasy brown hair had
    suddenly attacked one of the officers and bitten his shoulder. After
    that there was nothing left to do but take down everyone. Huey, Dewey
    and Fraser scanned the crowd, searching for the familiar spiky blond
    hair. Nothing. A middle man with thinning suddenly made a charge at 
    Huey, which the cop easily deflected. He yanked the attacker's hands
    behind his back and reached into his coat for his cuffs. He glanced up
    to call one of the officers over and saw Kowalski standing stiffly in
    the hallway. Huey smiled happily. "Ray!" His smile faded as he saw the
    gun come up. Kowalski got off one shot that sent both Huey and Dewey
    diving for cover as it stuck the wall behind them. "What the hell..?"
    Stan froze, the weapon still at his side. His eyes darted around the
    room, then he turned on his heels and took off. Welsh had to pacify the
    uniforms and the SWAT team that had charged in upon hearing the shots.
    "Ray!" Fraser broke through the confusion to go after his partner. Huey,
    still handcuffing the cult member, yelled at the Mountie. "Fraser! He's
    armed! Do--don't! Fraser!"
    
    
    
    
    
    Despite the lack of light, Ben was able to pursue Ray through the halls
    of the compound. The detective stumbled on several occasions, but always
    regained his balance as quickly as he faltered. It was by luck that in
    his confusion the blond cornered himself in one of the unfurnished rooms.
    There were two other exits, but it seemed that running was no longer
    an option. "Ray!" Kowalski whirled, eyes wide with fear, confusion and....something
    else. Rage? Hatred? Ben held his hands out, a gesture to show that he
    was unarmed. "Ray?" The detective wagged the gun at him.
    "Who the hell are you?" 
    "My name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I
    first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and for
    reasons that do not need exploring in this juncture, I have remained,
    attached-" He stopped suddenly, aware that Stan was murmuring the statement
    in unison. "...as a liason for the Canadian Consulate." The detective
    glared at him helplessly. "I know that. W-why do I know that?" "I have
    been your partner and best friend for almost two years, Ray." Kowalski
    shook his head. "No...no. I don't know you." 
    "Yes, you do." Ben looked at him steadily, eye contact never wavering.
    "Try to remember. You are Stanley Raymond Kowalski, Detective, First
    Grade, Chicago PD." For a brief instant recognition flickered in those
    pale green eyes but then vanished. Ben continued. "You were married to
    State's Attorney Stella Kowalski. Now divorced. Ray, remember!" Kowalski
    flinched as brief memories flashed through the haze. Dancing. A wedding.
    An angelic blonde in a glittering white bridal gown. Flowers, candles,
    cake. "Shit!" He gasped. Yelling, arguing, kitchen table, glass breaking,
    the angelic blonde is walking out. A overwhelming sadness came over him
    then, but he wasn't sure why. The Mountie's voice brought him back. "Ray,
    please put the gun down."
    "Shut up!", he snapped. "W-what are you doing to me?! Stop doing this
    to me!" His trigger finger moved postion slightly. Ray took no notice
    as Huey, Dewey, Welsh and two other officers took postion around them.
    "Kowalski, drop you weapon, now!" Welsh's voice echoed through the compound.
    The younger man didn't seem to hear him. "Ray,", Ben pleaded, "I am begging
    you, as a partner and a friend, please surrender your weapon." The gun
    hand trembled. Ray's eyes were dark with confusion, shock and hate. "Leave
    me alone.", he hissed quietly, "Please just go."
    "Ray, we will not hesitate to shoot you. Drop it, now!" Fraser looked
    at the lieutenant in surprise and a panic stirred in his heart as he
    realized the other man was not bluffing. "Ray," he whispered, "please."
    The detective's  jaw tightened visibly. "Get out of here, Mountie!",
    he growled. The tears that were glistening on the surface of Ben's eyes
    now fell. "These drugs are not helping you. Look at yourself. This is
    not who you are." "You don't know me."
    "I do know you. Very well. Try to-"
    "Kowalski, drop the weapon!" Fraser looked desperately from the lieutenant
    back to his partner. "Ray, you remember." The detective gasped, putting
    his free hand to his head as another flash of images overtook him. A
    boat, ocean, darkness, drowning, the Mountie's lips pressed to his own.
    A clearing, night sky, cooler full of beer. His eyes fluttered as another
    memory...a hospital ward, tied down to a bed, injections, clothes ripped
    off, ice cold shower. Large men, orderlies, pushing him against the wall,
    forcing his legs apart, a woman's laughter. "O-oh, God!", Ray cried out,
    screwing his eyes shut in agony. Ben started to move toward him. Another....the
    Mountie was holding him, talking to him, a poem, arguing with him, responsiblity.
    Ray opened his eyes, gasping for breath. He glanced up, scrowling at
    the Mountie, who had frozen in his step. "Fuck it. You're just part of
    the nightmare." Welsh and Kowalski fired simutaneously. Ray's bullet
    buried itself in Fraser, just beneath the ribcage; Welsh's bullet hit
    home in Kowalski's shoulder 
    
    
    
    Four hours later:
    
    Lieutenant Harding Welsh sat in the waiting room of the ER, holding his
    head in his hands. Huey came back from the canteen with two steaming
    cups of coffee. He sat down beside his superior officer and nudged the
    older man gently. "Coffee?" Welsh nodded appreciatively and took the
    cup that was offered. "Thanks." The lieutenant sighed deeply.
    "Did you talk to Thatcher?", Huey asked. Welsh nodded.
    "What's the plan?" 
    "Buck Frobisher is coming down in two days. He's taking the body back
    to the Territories. He'll be buried beside his father." Huey sighed.
    "Well, that's good...I mean, for him. Better than here in Chicago." His
    superior didn't reply. Jack shifted nervously in the chair. "Have you
    by any chance seen Dewey. I, uh-"
    "Dewey is making arrangements."
    "O.k." The two men fell into silence, both looking at their feet. 
    
    
    
    "Hey! Jack!" Huey looked up to see Tom trotting toward him, cell phone
    in hand, droplets of rain glistening on his jacket. "Any word on Ray?"
    Huey shook his head. 
    "He's still in surgery." 
    
    
    
    "Not anymore." The trio turned to see Doctor Phillips coming down the
    hall, stripping off a pair of latex gloves. She sighed deeply, looking
    at the three men. Welsh had explained the situation earlier to the other
    two detectives when they had first arrived at the ER. "We were able to
    retrieve the bullet with no problems. It was a good shot, Lieutenant.
    There was minimal muscle damage. I'd estimate about a week here and at
    least two weeks in theraphy." Phillips slipped off her glasses and rubbed
    her eyes. "I went ahead and did a full examination. There was evidence
    of recent...sexual intercourse. While there wasn't any tearing, he's
    sore and I would think this was not consensual either." Welsh dropped
    his head into his hands again and Dewey slammed his fist into the wall.
    "Didn't I tell you that fat fuck was a closet case?! Didn't I?!" Jack
    silenced his partner. "Was, um....it protected?", he asked. Phillips
    sighed.
    "I didn't find any traces of semen, but it would be best if you talked
    to the..fat fuck." Huey shook his head. "He got away. Somehow, he got
    away." Doctor Phillips nodded.
    "Happens, I suppose. I'll run some tests. The standard STD checks." She
    licked her lips, sniffing softly. "It would be in Detective Kowalski's
    best interest that no one mention Constable Fraser. These past few days
    have been very traumatic for him. Given his relationship with Ben and
    the chain of events that have led up to this moment, telling him about
    the shooting now could cause a total breakdown." She bowed her head as
    tears blurred her vision and she rubbed the moisture away quickly before
    the men could take note. "We have to move Constable Fraser's body into
    the morgue. Have any arrangements been made?" Welsh nodded. "A friend
    of his will be taking the body back to Canada." She shook her head. "Alright.
    Gentlemen, I would recommend that you go home and get some sleep. Detective
    Kowalski is in good hands here." Harding stood up and shook her hand.
    "Yeah. We know, Doc. Thank you." She nodded.
    
    
    
    ====================================================================
    
    Ray awoke with the Fear. He looked around, startled and confused by what
    he saw. Hospital. He was in a hospital. *How in hell did I get back here?*
    Over the intercom someone was asking for Dr. Andrews.  Bandage on his
    shoulder. Ached something terrible. IV stuck in his left arm. "Geez.",
    he mumbled softly. The last thing he could remember was being in a bar,
    talking to some beer-bellied Bible thumper and...Oh, God. That bedroom.
    The smell of that bastard. Again. Again. Happening again. He glanced
    around and couldn't see the familiar red serge. *Where the hell is Fraser?*
    "Detective Kowalski." Doctor Phillips flashed his a bright smile as she
    entered the room and opened the windows. "How are you feeling?" "Like
    shit.", he mumbled, squinting as sunlight flooded the room."What the
    hell happened to me?" She turned, still smiling. Ray didn't quite like
    that smile. It was a mask, the type of expression a person wore when
    they were hiding something. "You were shot, Detective.", she replied.
    He groaned softy.
    "How do you know my name?" 
    "Lieutenant Welsh explained everything to me. You lost your memory for
    a time, so it was vital that we use your real name." Ray stared at her.
    Phillips smile faltered slightly and she prayed that he would not ask
    the question she could not answer. "My memory? I lost my memory?", he
    asked incredulously.
    "I'm afraid so." The detective sighed and rubbed his head.
    "Damn. I d-don't really remember anything." She touched his arm gently.
    "When you're feeling up to it, Ray, I would like to talk to you about
    what happened in the psych hospital. And while-" "Good to see you conscious,
    Detective." The doctor and detective looked up. Welsh was standing the
    doorway. Behind him, Huey and Dewey. "Hi, Lieu.", Ray muttered shyly.
    Harding pulled up a chair. Jack and Tom both stepped forward to offer
    a brotherly handshake. "How are ya, Ray?", Tom asked.
    "Not bad.", he replied, forcing a thin smile.  Phillips made brief eye
    contact Welsh before she left the room. "I'll come back to check on you
    later, alright, Ray?"
    "Sure thing, Doc." 
    
    
    
    
    "How's the shoulder, Kowalski." Ray rotated his shoulder slightly, letting
    out a small grunt of pain as he did. "Could be better." Welsh nodded.
    "Doc says it will heal up fast. Alittle bit of theraphy and you'll be
    good as new." Ray nodded. "That's good." He glanced up at the doorway
    as a woman wearing a red shawl passed. Hmm, still no Mountie. "Where's
    Frase?", he asked, eyes back on his superior officer.  Harding looked
    at the other two detectives helplessly, but both men cast their eyes
    downward and turned a pale shade. Welsh sighed. "Can I have a moment
    with Ray, please?"  Huey and Dewey nodded gratefully and spared no time
    in leaving the room. The lieutenant closed the door and sat down on the
    edge of the bed. His manner and silence were putting Kowalski on edge,
    so much so that he was already shaking. "What's goin' on? Where is Fraser?"
    Welsh swallowed.
    "Ray, how much do you remember of what happened in the compound?" He
    shook his head. "What does this have to do with-" Welsh put up a hand
    to silence him. "Humor me, Detective. How much do you remember?" Ray
    sighed.
    "I-I don't know. Not much. I-didn't--I didn't know who I was." Welsh
    looked at the younger man, studying the gentle curves of his face. His
    officers, though he could be hard on them, were like his own children.
    Fraser and Ray were no different; they were his sons. And it hurt him
    now to look on pain and anxiousness that were so marred the blond's boyish
    features. "Do you remember being shot?", he asked. Kowalski squinted
    slightly. Gunshot. Two gunshots. Bullet. Blood. Gun smoke. Red. Red.
    Red. Red on red. "Frase.", he mumbled. "Frase got shot, didn't he?" Harding
    nodded. "B-but he's o.k., right? Fraser's good, right?" The detective's
    voice was straining."Lieutenant?" Welsh struggled to maintain composure
    as he shook his head. "Constable Fraser was pronounced dead at 9:54 last
    night." Ray's lips trembled, and he bowed his head to hide his tears
    from his superior. Welsh reached out and cupped the side of the younger
    man's face in a gesture of comfort. "Who shot him?", Ray whimpered softly,
    "Was it Rosdale? That fat bastard." The lieutenant himself began to tremble.
    "Ray, that isn't important right now." Kowalski's head shot up, eyes
    burning fiercely. "Damnit! It is important! I wanna know. Which one of
    those goddamn headcases shot him?!" Welsh closed his eyes and were unable
    to stop the tears that fell. "You were out of it---Afraid. You d-didn't
    know what you were doing.", he whispered, "It--It wasn't your fault.
    You didn't know." Ray's eyes were huge with anguish and disbelief. "I-I-I
    shot Fraser?" Confusion. "I shot my partner? I k-killed him?" "It was
    an accident, Ray-"
    "Shut up! Do not tell me it was an accident! I shot him! That is not
    a fucking accident!" The detective was yelling now and gesturing wildly
    so his IV chord was being yanked violently. "Detective, calm down!",
    Welsh said, alarmed.
    "Fuck you!", Kowalski hissed. Another wild toss of his arm and the IV
    came out. The blond pais no attention to the blood that trickled down
    from the small wound. He was still yelling something about the shooting,
    but Welsh wasn't taking note. He was trying to physically calm the detective.
    He screamed for Huey and Dewey as he struggled to take hold of Ray's
    arms. The detectives burst in, but were shoved aside by the doctor. "Lieutenant!
    Get off of my patient. Now!", Phillips barked. She pushed the large man
    out of the way and took Ray's face in her hands. "Ray! Look at me. Look
    at me." His eyes finally met hers. "Calm down. Relax. O.k.? I don't want
    you to hurt yourself." Whimpering, he buried his face in her coat and
    began to sob. Phillips held him, stroking the blond head gently and softly
    whispering words of comfort. Huey started to speak and she turned a fierce
    scrowl to the men behind her. "I want all of you to get the hell out
    of this room and you will NOT be admitted here again without my say-so.
    Now, get out.", she hissed. Once all three had taken their leave, she
    fixed the IV and rocked Kowalski until he drifted into sleep. 
    
    
    
    Welsh, Huey and Dewey were waiting when she came out of the room. Phillips
    crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them. Welsh started to
    explain. "Doct-"
    "Shut up. I told you. I told all three of you. I told you not to say
    a word about Fraser's death. The man in that room has been drugged, beaten,
    raped, used and betrayed. He does not need anymore emotional and mental
    strain. And thanks to you..." She scoffed."I don't even know what this
    has done to him. I'm glad you care so much." "With all due respect, Doctor,
    he asked and if I had avoided the question he would have put two and
    two together." "You should not have mentioned Fraser at all."
    "He asked about Ben. I didn't know what to say."
    "Then you lie! Just..." She sighed with disgust. "Just stay away from
    him. Please." With that she turned and walked away, shaking her head.
    
    
    
    
    Between rounds, Phillips looked in on Ray. Most of the time, he was crying,
    curled up in a ball, hugging a pillow. During those times, she sat down
    on the bed and comforted him. Cradled him, sang to him, whispered a poem.
    These attempts at soothing him, only caused Ray more anguish, so that
    she finally just held him and let exhaustion do the rest. Then she watched
    him sleep. There was a terrible guilt that played in her. She wasn't
    sure she could save him. She hadn't been able to save the Mountie. And
    because of that, the detective was suffering now. 
    
    
    
    
    
    Welsh was sitting in the cafeteria when Phillips approached him. She
    was dressed in scrubs and her face was drawn with a certain weariness.
    "I'm sorry about this morning.", she said softly. "I, um, I had real
    bad time with all of this and I took it out on you." Phillips pushed
    a lock of hair away from her face. "And I'm sorry that I, um, lost Fraser."
    "You did what you could, Doc. That's all we can do.", he replied gently.
    She shook her head. "I didn't know he was raped. I didn't bother to..do
    a rape exam. If I had.." Her voice was shaky. "If I had, I could have
    gotten him help. And he wouldn't be lying in recovery right now and Ben
    wouldn't be lying in the morgue." Harding's eyes narrowed. "This isn't
    your fault, Doctor Phillips."
    "I owed it to him. At least to save his partner. And I let him down."
    She wasn't looking at him as the rising tear finally fell. "Again." The
    lieutenant stood, reaching out to the young woman, but she moved back
    quickly. "I..just wanted to say sorry." And then she was gone. Harding
    sighed and sank back into his chair. 
    
    
    ======================================================================
    
    Buck Frobisher had taken Ben's body back to Canada. Since his visit was
    strictly business he had had no time to see Ray, but asked that Lieutenant
    Welsh give the detective his deepest sympathies. The same could not be
    said for Inspector Thatcher, who was looking to bring Ray up on charges
    for the shooting death of her surbordinate. 
    
    
      In the days that followed Ray did whatever he was asked without objection.
    He agreed to see the department shrink and even attend the rape counseling
    sessions set up by Doctor Phillips. He ate all his meals and gained back
    the weight he had lost. Welsh had decided to hold off getting a statement
    from Kowalski until the detective returned home. The scars that Fraser's
    death had left were obvious, but it appeared that he willing to heal,
    to get better. 
    
    
    Phillips smiled as she watched Ray eat. The detective seemed to be improving.
    Still, sometimes the forest green eyes would cloud with a sorrow that
    could never be healed. He seemed a different person then.  But this look
    vanished as suddenly as it arrived and Ray Kowalski would return, the
    Ray that Ben had loved and given his life for. "You're getting better,
    Ray.",Phillips said as she checked the wrap around his shoulder. He managed
    a small smile. "I feel better. Kind of." Kowalski sniffed. "I miss Frase."
    Phillips stroked his hair. "I know. But you have to remember that he
    wanted you to live. And he was only thinking of you. Don't let his efforts
    have been in vain." Ray smiled slightly and nodded. 
    
    
    
    After the first outburst, Ray kept his grief private. For appearances
    sake he showed a smile to his doctor, superior and fellow officers, only
    occasionally spilling the involuntary tears in their presence. At night
    he let go his pain and sobbed quietly for hours. Many times he saw a
    red blur out of the corner of his eye and expected to see the Mountie
    when he turned. Each hope against hope was shattered by disappointment
    when he realized he was alone. The man's voice was in his head, so that
    he heard that voice almost constantly.  All these things he kept to himself
    and never spoke of them to his doctor or his counselers. What could he
    say? 'I hear my dead partner in my head. The partner I killed.' He was
    going mad, he was sure of it. He deserved it didn't he? If he'd done
    this counseling thing before, like Fraser had asked....No, wait, Fraser
    hadn't asked, he'd begged. If he'd done the counseling thing,  then none
    of this would have....  He and Ben would be at the Consulate now, on
    a stakeout, anywhere.  
    
    
    
    
    
    Ray leaned against the window, looking over the lights of the city. It
    was late now. He smiled to himself as he thought about the many laughs
    shared over a cold pizza and bark tea. That last night. No, the night
    before, when they'd sat under the stars together. Beautiful night,that
    night. His smile faded. Six days. Six days Ben had been gone. He studied
    the pattern of the lights, wondering about the people who resided within
    those luminous circles. None of them knew Ben was dead and it was doubtful
    that any of them gave a damn. A million different lives, each absorbed
    in their own pitiful existance. He sighed deeply and traced an invisible
    pattern on the cold glass. How many dramas must take place, how many
    people loose their lives, how many people are born. That was the nature
    of life, always in motion. Death was nothing, just part of a thousand
    cycles.The people down there don't think about these things. Ray closed
    his eyes and whimpered softly. He didn't think about these thing, either.
    These weren't his goddamn thoughts. "Detective Kowalski? Are you alright?"
    The night nurse gently put her arms around his shoulder. He hadn't even
    heard her come in.  "Detective?" Ray allowed her to lead him back to
    bed.
    "You're being released tomorrow. You need your sleep.", she said as she
    tucked the corner of the blanket under the mattress. "You would fall
    to your knees and weep if you knew what happened while the Earth sleeps.",
    he murmured softly. Her eyes narrowed with confusion. "What? I'm afraid
    I don't follow, Detective." Ray didn't reply.
    
    
    
    
    *In December 1988 a young boy was being held in a warehouse.* Ray opened
    his eyes. Darkness. The curtains had been drawn over the windows. *You
    went in, even though you knew your cover had been blown. You drew fire,
    you were wounded, yet you managed to rescue the boy. Your first citation.*
    That voice again. "No. Please. No, no, no.", he whimpered. *In December
    1990, in a jewelry store, you single-handedly held off three gunmen,
    saving four innocent lives. Your second citation. In September 1993,
    you faced down three escaped murders and you brought them to justice.*
    "Stop. Leave me alone." *Your third citation. You're a good policeman,
    Ray and I'd be proud to call you my partner.. and my friend.* "Why are
    you doing this to me?"  *Friend.*
    "Leave me alone!"
    
    
     
    
    ================================================================
    
    "You all packed up?" Ray looked at Huey and nodded.
    "Yeah. I think so."
    "You said good-bye to Doctor Phillips?"
    "Yeah. She's in surgery now and she said she's gonna be checking up on
    me." Huey winked playfully. "She's got it bad for you, Ray." Kowalski
    smiled thinly. Both Jack and Tom had noticed the bloodshot eyes and the
    haunted expression on the detective's face when they'd come in that morning.
    But neither one had commented. They wanted to maintain a cheerful front
    for Kowalski. Not worry him, not upset him. Jack grinned, picking up
    the duffle bag. "C'mon, Ray." Kowalski nodded, slipped into his jacket
    and joined the two men in the hall. 
    
    
    
    
    Jack walked a step or two ahead as Dewey chattered relentlessly to a
    not quite-so-talkative Ray. As they passed a room that was in the process
    of being renovated, Kowalski stopped and looked in. "A nursery.", he
    mumbled, studying the Disney Babies wallpaper. There was a tinge of sadness
    in the detective's voice. Tom smiled softly and put his arm on the other
    man's shoulder. "Yeah.", he gave a gentle tug to get Kowalski moving
    again. "Let's go, Ray."  
    
    
    Jack, suddenly aware that he could no longer hear the footsteps behind
    him, stopped and waited for the other two men to turn back in his direction
    before continuing on his way. 
    
    
    They were half way down the hall when Kowalski suddenly jumped at Dewey.
    He knocked the other man hard into the wall and sent them both crashing
    down to the floor. While Tom was still stunned, Ray reached down and
    took his weapon from its holster. He swung it violently at Jack, who
    having moved foward, now back away, hands raised. There were startled
    cries as the other people walking the floor dived for cover, cringing
    in corners and against the wall. "Kowalski..."  The blond back-stepped,
    moving in the direction they had come. "Why are you doing this?", Jack
    asked, letting go the duffle bag, "They won't let you leave the building."
    Ray shook his head. "Not trying to leave." Jack was took one step forward
    for every one that the smaller man took back. "Ray, just put the gun
    down." Kowalski shook his head. He moved toward the door of the unfinished
    nursery and opened it. "I'm just going to make it better, Jack." He scrambled
    into the room and slammed the door, even as Huey made a charge for it.
    Locked. "Goddamnit!" He pounded the door in frustration.
    "Tom, find someone to open this. Now!" Dewey set off in half-run, half-
    limp to locate a doctor as Huey moved to the observation window.  Ray
    was in the center of the room, the gun trembling in his hand. He was
    far away, staring at something past Jack. "I...shot him.", Ray whispered."Have
    to make everything better."  Huey's eyes narrowed at these words. Desperate,
    he looked around and picked up the first thing he saw, a chair. He swung
    it violently into the window, expecting it to shatter. Instead, the chair
    bounced off harmlessly. "No. No.", he whispered, again striking the window
    with the chair. Flexible, shatter resistant. He dropped the chair and
    looked at the blond urgently. Huey pounded at the glass with his fist.
    "Ray! You open the fucking door, now!" It was useless, his screaming.
    The room was sound-proof. But he cried out anyway.  Kowalski backed away.
    His thumb moved slightly as he cocked the hammer of the gun. Huey swallowed.
    He could see no sign of Ray in the pallid green eyes that stared at him
    from the other side of the glass. "Stan! Ray! Open up!" He slammed his
    palms against the window as Ray brought the barrel to his temple.  "Kowalski!"
    The last desperate cry before a single gunshot shattered the silence
    of the nursery. 
    
    The End
    
    Opinions welcome:
    
    


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